


the weenie chronicles

by momotori



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:23:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momotori/pseuds/momotori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>another one of my old documents</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. a weenie to love

**Author's Note:**

> another one of my old documents

 “Aoba!...,” Koujaku dashes toward Aoba.

 

“Get away from me, damn old man!,” Aoba backs away from him.

 

“Aoba…,” Koujaku whispers, “You are my only love…,”

 

Aoba makes a weird choking noise. It’s all coming to an end.

 

“Koujaku..,”

 

“Yes, my love, Aoba Seragaki, 23 years of age, just starting anime school…,”

 

“Why the HELL are you wearing a weenie costume?”

 

“Aoba…,” Demi Lavato’s ‘This is Me’ plays.

 

“I am the weenie master,” Aoba, very irritated, punches Koujaku in his gut. He falls to the ground.

 

“Aoba, my love, why?,”

 

“Why not?,” Aoba shrugs. Everything turns into a monochrome filter. Koujaku’s mother’s screaming turns into a muffled sound. Aoba dashes to the piano, playing the saddest song he knows. Clear descends from the sky, playing ‘Careless Whisper’ on the saxophone. Clear’s voice booms,

 

“DID SOMEONE SAY MASTER,” Clear’s saxophone gets louder. Clear’s attire only consisted of radical sunglasses and an apron. Our god has arrived.

 


	2. tfw aoba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuk m

 “Aoba, we’re out of hotdogs,” Koujaku’s voice blares from the kitchen.

 

“But you’re still alive, so we’re not out of weenies,” Aoba replies back from their bedroom, where the do the frick frack. The whole house turns into a monochrome filter. A single tear drop falls from Koujaku’s left eye, because obviously the boy doesn’t know how to cut his own hair outta his goddamn eyes.  A muffled ‘Let it Go’ could be heard in the distance.

 

“The past is in the past,” Koujaku sings.

 

“Koujakoff, that was just yesterday,” Aoba screams. Koujaku falls to his hands and knees, like an anime protagonist who has failed.

 

“If you won’t buy the hotdogs, I will!” Koujaku storms out of the house. There he go. There. He. Go. Suddenly, a strange figure appears before the whinny ass baby. Our god, Clear, has come. He was only wearing a pastel pick apron, sunglasses, and boots with the fur. The fur. He got low. Super low.

 

“Never give in, Koujaku,” Clear whispers into the adult baby’s left ear. Hotdogs appear in Koujaku’s palms. Tears of joy were shed.


End file.
